


The Woods at Night

by Semianonymity



Series: Werewolves [1]
Category: Toriko (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semianonymity/pseuds/Semianonymity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Komatsu takes an unexpected trip on the night of the full moon.</p>
<p>Werewolf AU, this fic is part of a longer story-arc that I'm writing piece by piece, out of order. All you need to know is that Komatsu (human) knows about the Kings (werewolves), and they're close but not in a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Woods at Night

Komatsu blinked as, dizzingly, the world around him disappeared before resolving into the black-and-gray confusion of a forest late at night. It was the full moon—Komatsu could see, a little, and when he looked up, he could see the moon through the leafless branches. The white light drowned out all but the brightest stars. There wasn't any other sources of light, not even the glow of a city on the horizon.

It was November, bitterly cold, so cold that Komatsu didn't think it could be a dream.

He remembered putting his hand on the knob of his front door, late, tired, knowing the Kings wouldn't be there. The full moon—he'd started keeping track of course, because it defined the cycle of their lives and therefore his. They always went off to run wild for a night, somewhere a group of oversized wolves wouldn't be noticed. Cities were full of eyes, human and mechanical. Komatsu never went with them. Coco had talked about it, once, before Komatsu had ever really thought about accompanying them. Coco had explained how they ran wild, wolf-shaped, hunted and sang and played. Komatsu had understood, he'd thought; he had a hard time keeping up with them when they were human-shaped, and just wouldn't _fit_. But, expression awful, guilt and blame and preemptive loss, Coco had said he wasn't sure if Komatsu would be _safe_. That they ran on instinct, that Komatsu could be seen as prey, would probably be seen as an outsider, that it could end with Komatsu bitten. Or dead. That at best, he'd probably be left alone, and therefore at risk. But it was more likely—most likely—that they'd simply kill him.

Komatsu hadn't pushed, at least in part because of the fear lurking in Coco's eyes, the almost-inaudible growl buzzing through his throat even Coco's iron control almost never slipped that far. Even though Komatsu couldn't believe any of them would hurt him, no matter what form.

Now he was in the woods, shivering in his chef's whites, completely unsure of what had happened, what was going on.

A long howl echoed through the trees, taken up by another throat and then another, until Komatsu had no idea how many voices there were. How many wolves, or werewolves. It was a sound that seemed to slip through any rational reaction and grip at his nerves, adrenaline rushing through his system: heartbeat faster, senses sharper, breathing fast.

Before Komatsu could decide to stay where he was, wherever it was—or go in search of _something_ , and was this a flight or fight response? Or, for Komatsu, flight or hide—the first wolf (no, far too big, wolf-shaped but _werewolf_ ) loped into view.

Komatsu screamed before he could bite it back, even knowing that he should—stay silent, try not to look too terrified. But he was on the verge of a panic attack as three more werewolves appeared, silent as smoke—but the footprints they left in the damp soil were huge, deep, nothing intangible about them.

The first was mottled white and gray, not quite as big as the massive dark gray one striped with black, the smallest pure white except for blood staining the mouth, the last just a little bit bigger, and sleek, glossy black. It was—

Oddly familiar, and their body language was not angry, not quite wary, it was _attentive_ , tails up, ears forward, not ready to leap, not hunting—

“Toriko?” Komatsu whispered, feeling dizzy. He'd never seen the Kings changed before, nothing past the teeth, claws, eyes, some extra hair. “Coco, Sunny, Zebra—”

He was hit suddenly by a wall of fur and muscle, breath knocked out of him as he was pinned by— “Toriko!” It had to be him, pushing his head into Komatsu's neck and shoulder, breath shockingly warm against chilled skin, nose wet, teeth as long as Komatsu's fingers flashing before Toriko started licking him enthusiastically, tail whipping against his legs.

Komatsu had to laugh, out of joy and relief and of _course_ Toriko's instincts were—this. He'd known. He had no idea how or why he'd gotten here, what was going on, but Komatsu buried his fingers in thick warm fur and felt like he was going to burst from happiness.

“Toriko! Toriko, you're so beautiful, you—all of you, I'm—I don't know why or how I'm here, I just appeared, but—”

Zebra shouldered Toriko out of the way, snapping at him, and Komatsu scrambled up into a sitting position because it had been hard to breathe under Toriko, and Zebra was even bigger. Sunny wound himself around Komatsu's back, sticking his cold nose in Komatsu's ear—Komatsu jumped—and Zebra snarled, teeth bared and hackles raised to make him even _bigger_ —but it was Zebra. Komatsu reached for him without a second thought, and his ears went from threatening to confused, and the growl cut out—and Zebra snapped half-heartedly at Komatsu, far too far away to connect, and he shoved his head into Komatsu's lap, licking at his knee until Komatsu began to scratch behind his ears.

Sunny whined and crawled around Komatsu, mud smearing on his pristine belly fur, and jostled with Zebra until they managed to knock Komatsu over, both trying to fit into a space that couldn't hold even part of one of them.

Coco, a black shadow against the night, stepped forward to growl at them in warning. It hit Komatsu, suddenly, hard enough to hurt—the way Coco had been so hesitant to touch, so worried for Komatsu. The way he'd been when Komatsu first met him, human-shaped—and now, with instinct running strong, what he had was... Fear.

Coco stayed completely still—almost frozen, stiff with, yes, with fear, tail tucked down—as Komatsu approached him. He didn't so much as flinch as Komatsu carefully touched the fur of his neck. He didn't relax.

“Coco,” Komatsu whispered, heart breaking, and he buried his face in Coco's neck, like Toriko had done to him, clutching at Coco's shoulders. Komatsu made a small, slight nose of pure relief when he felt Coco finally relax, and when he pulled back a little to see Coco's tail wagging, Komatsu smiled, wider and wider—he was sure he looked ridiculous, but he was so _happy_.

Coco nosed at his cheek, a gesture that would have been a lick, Komatsu thought, except that was from ever-mindful, careful Coco. _Coco_ , who'd worried about Komatsu's safety with a pack of werewolves the night of the full moon, and then at his most wild wouldn't lick him _just in case_ he lost control and let out poison.

“You're too careful,” Komatsu told him, tender, and when Coco licked him, just once, a brief flick of tongue at his chin, Komatsu's heart leapt.

Sunny was tired of Coco monopolizing Komatsu's attention, though, and he rested his head heavily on Komatsu's shoulder, and Toriko leapt _over_ them, then reared up on his hind legs, huge, much taller than Komatsu—and he came back down with his front legs stretched out in front of him, tongue lolling, back end up and tail wagging. —If he wasn't so obviously _wild_ , huge white teeth and a sharp predatory edge to his gaze, he would have looked like an overgrown puppy, ready to play and—

“Me?” Komatsu asked in surprise, pointing at himself, and Sunny backed up, leaving Komatsu in the center of a circle of wolves—and Zebra, as carefully rough as he always was, so _careful_ to never hurt Komatsu seriously, pushed at Komatsu with his head. Komatsu stumbled into Toriko and—

Toriko rolled over onto his back, like Komatsu had pushed him. He couldn't, of course, even if he tried, but—they were playing, weren't they? As a pack, able to let go of some of the more human disagreements and arguments on the night of the full moon. And Komatsu suspected that even that was easier now—he'd watched the tension between the four of them ease in the past months.

They were playing, they wanted _him_ to play, and he knew he wasn't (and couldn't be) a part of their pack, but they were treating him almost as if he was. To start with, they hadn't killed him. He was human, they hadn't forgotten that he was human, as if they could—and they were playing with him.

Komatsu's smile appeared like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky, and Toriko's tail started wagging again, and Komatsu laughed and threw himself at Toriko. Maybe the smart thing would have been to be cautious, not wrestle with werewolves on the night of a full moon—Coco would be horrified tomorrow. But Komatsu _knew_. He'd known even before that night, and now he was certain, willing to bet his life on it because it wasn't a _bet_. They were being so careful. For him.

So Komatsu just tried to growl, laughing at his efforts. Sunny's mouth closed around his arm, soft enough that he could barely feel the teeth, and his growl was much more intimidating. But when Komatsu tugged gently, Sunny released his arm—only to jump back dramatically when Toriko stood, knocking Komatsu towards him. Toriko and Zebra jumped at each other, body language right on the edge of aggressive, and Komatsu had to watch them, awed, leaning into Sunny until he joined in, a tangle of fur and fangs and breathtaking speed, strength, flexibility.

After a second, though, Coco was next to Komatsu, hesitating—so Komatsu threw himself at him, and Coco just froze, as if he wasn't sure he should move, but Komatsu's laughter attracted the attention of Zebra, who snagged Komatsu neatly by his collar, teeth sinking effortlessly through the fabric, yanking him off the other werewolf and leaving him dangling as Zebra slammed into Coco. “Ack!” Komatsu said, swinging from Zebra's jaws. “Zebra, I give!”

Zebra dropped him and when Komatsu turned right around to run at his shoulder and push, Zebra waited just a moment, an intractable wall, before dropping limp. Sunny took the opportunity to jump at him—

They played until Komatsu, getting tired no matter how careful they were, took a few steps back to watch them, until he was starting to shiver again. As he cooled down, he wondered what he was going to do all night—what was going on in the first place.

When the pack turned to him, all of them wearing dog—no, _wolf_ smiles, Komatsu couldn't worry anymore. He could just—enjoy tonight as it was, because while there was the niggling fear about what had brought him here, he couldn't be safer than where he was. And he walked over to them, his friends, his Kings, and let himself be pushed and nosed and prodded into the middle of the tangle, until he had Toriko's head covering most of his chest, looking at him with—joy, and admiration, before telling himself he was being silly, dismissing the thought. He was laying half on Coco's flank, his legs draped over Zebra's neck, and Sunny had squeezed in so close that his long, gloriously soft fur was half-covering Komatsu. He could feel each of them breathing, see the glint of their eyes in the dark when the full moon caught them. Komatsu could feel himself starting to drift off to sleep.

He roused himself, Toriko lifting his head when he felt Komatsu squirming, the others stirring as well.

“It's the full moon—don't let me hold you back! If you still have more hunting to do, if you want to run—”

Zebra stood, then the rest of them, leaving Komatsu enough time to stumble upright, pull himself out of the way. But before he could go more than a step or two away, Toriko had bitten down on the edge of his apron, holding him in place. “Toriko? --wah!”

Toriko tugged him down and curled around him, once more enveloping him in warm fur. “Toriko?” Komatsu said—there was no reply, but Komatsu shouldn't have expected one. Wolves couldn't speak, after all, and Toriko wasn't a wolf, but he was wolf-shaped at the moment.

\--No, wait; Toriko twisted himself until he could start licking Komatsu's hair. It was already messy, past the point where Komatsu usually got it cut, and Toriko was only making it into an even bigger mess. Komatsu guessed that was a reply of sorts. The sweep of Toriko's tongue, his focus on Komatsu, was oddly soothing.

One by one, the other three came up to sniff at Toriko—and also Komatsu, accepting a few pats each. And then they were off, running deadly and near-silent, disappearing (to Komatsu's senses) almost immediately. Off to hunt, Komatsu guessed—considering what their appetites were. It was a relief, that they weren't letting him hold them back, except...

“Toriko? I don't want—you should be able to run, too,” Komatsu said, upset. “Go hunting. If you want to—”

Toriko growled at him, quietly, and Komatsu gave up, settling in—snuggling closer to Toriko's warmth, and he ran extremely hot when he was human-shaped, and now he was a furnace. He could feel Toriko's happy sigh all along his length when he dug his fingers through thick fur to scratch gently. Komatsu didn't even realize when he fell asleep.

Komatsu woke up to Zebra's face—his wolf-face—a few inches from his own, and he jumped with surprise, sleepy-stupid. Then smiled, and leaned in to press his face alongside Zebra's muzzle.

It was still night, and Komatsu followed their wordless directions, letting Sunny drag him down this time, greeting the others before they ran off again, Toriko going with them. Sunny was incredibly soft, and smaller than Toriko, but still more than big enough to keep Komatsu warm, especially with his extravagant coat. When Komatsu scratched his ears, Sunny closed his eyes in pleasure, tail thumping quietly, clearly happy—more open and less defensive as a wolf, even if he was less expressive. Komatsu couldn't help but tell him how beautiful he was, wild and perfect and dangerous, and Sunny soaked in the attention, the praise, the things that could be hard to say to Sunny's face not because they weren't _true_ but because Sunny could be so distant, standoffish. Komatsu said them anyway, of course, but he liked this, too, this option to just be the two of them.

Komatsu fell asleep again.

The next time he woke up, the sky was just a little bit grayer—Komatsu had no idea what time it was, but dawn had to be approaching.

The Kings didn't run off this time—instead, Toriko lifted his head and howled, making the hair at Komatsu's nape prickle. The other Kings followed him, until the woods rang with their cries. The sound was just as unforgettable, just as attention-demanding as it had been the first time, before he'd realized the werewolves were his Kings. He couldn't be afraid, though. He was captivated, awed, almost feeling as much as hearing the sound filling the air. He hardly noticed one of the voices cut out, until he felt a furry nose nudge his chin, and he opened his eyes—he hadn't even realized he'd closed them—to see Zebra nudging at him, trying to push his head up. He allowed it, not able to do much else, and then looked back at Zebra, mystified, when the werewolf moved.

Zebra growled at him, then exaggeratedly lifted his head, making noises that almost sounded like a dog trying to speak, before turning back to Komatsu, pushing his head up again. Then Zebra sat back on his haunches and howled, and—

“Me too?” Komatsu asked, amazed, and Zebra's hail wagged in approval even though his ears were still pulled back against his head.

Komatsu wasn't really capable of making any of the right noises, but he could barely hear his own voice anyway, overpowered by the actual werewolves. He didn't worry about it, just did his best, voice straining to sing to the night. Komatsu could feel the thumping of his heart in his chest, the cold night, and he felt like one of them, part of the pack, even being so human.

When the song died down, Komatsu falling silent first, his throat aching, and then the others, one by one. Finally Zebra quieted too, the hush absolute after the noise.

Komatsu was bullied into the middle of a puppy-pile of werewolves again—not that he minded, not really. He was exhausted, chilled to the bone. It was so _good_ to have them there, their warm bodies around him, close as breath—it was everything Komatsu had been craving, and trying not to let himself crave. He'd pictured them human, true, when he'd imagined this, but—it was still them. His Kings, even if he couldn't really claim them as his, the name simply felt right...

Komatsu woke up bleary, eyes gummy, still tired, stiff, ravenously hungry. He pulled his hand free to rub at his eyes, yawning, rolling over—

Toriko was staring at him from inches away, intensely focused. Human-shaped Toriko. His hand—that was the weight on Komatsu's hip. Komatsu had to follow the line of Toriko's arm to where it was warm against the fabric of his now-filthy whites, hot against a strip of bare skin exposed by nighttime shuffling. Toriko was very naked: his body was as stunning as it always was, and Komatsu tried very hard not to stare, or—too much anything, because of _course_ they'd be naked after a night spent as wolves

Komatsu was laying on his side on Zebra's chest, also naked. Sunny had curled up around one of Komatsu's legs, hugging it close, although someone—presumably Sunny—had pulled off Komatsu's shoes, leaving his toes pressed against the firm muscle of his abs, and even Coco, normally the most body shy, had somehow sprawled out in his sleep to be touching all of them—and he'd pressed all along Komatsu's side.

“Good morning,” Komatsu said, managing a smile even though—he was sure—he was blushing red, because he was cuddling with four naked men. ...and when he'd pictured it (because he _had_ pictured it, soon after he'd met all four of them, guiltily) he'd been naked, too, not wearing a dirty, wrinkled uniform.

Toriko smiled and shifted even closer, head going to the side and—

Komatsu yelped with surprise as Toriko licked a long wet stripe up his neck, about as intimate as a dog's kisses—except that it was Toriko, who was independent to the point of untouchability, Toriko who was wild and fierce and amazing, Toriko who saw him as pack, as close, as something to be treasured.

Sunny grumbled, brushing hair out of his face and making a noise of distress at the mud and leaves he was spattered with, as they all were.

“The hell were you doing _here?_ ” Zebra rumbled, sounding angry—and it was a little intimidating, even though Komatsu knew Zebra, as a person and now as a wolf—but the gentle hand he moved to cup Komatsu's head told a different story.

“I don't know,” Komatsu said, the sleepy warmth of waking up surrounded by the solid comfort and heat of the Kings dissipating as the reality came back to him—that he'd mysteriously found himself in the middle of the woods, that he didn't know why or even how, except in the vaguest sense. The supernatural had to be involved—magic—but that was vague enough to be useless.

“What do you mean?” Coco asked, voice sharp, worried, his eyes a little too bright when Komatsu looked over—the full moon still fading from his system.

“I was—it was late, I was at my front door, and when I put my hand on the doorknob, everything just—disappeared. Like there was nothing, and then I was in the woods, and then there was—you.”

Zebra growled, deep and threatening, rumbling through his chest—not too extraordinary, even when Toriko growled, too, a feral snarl. But then Sunny took it up, and Coco, until Komatsu could feel the slow, aggressive hunting rage of a werewolf pack vibrating all through his bones.

“Why weren't you _afraid?_ ” Sunny said, almost plaintive.

“I was,” Komatsu blurted out, before he could think. “But then I recognized you—”

“You still should have been afraid,” Coco said, and he sounded—furious. Above the fear. As angry as Komatsu had ever heard him. “You should have—Komatsu, we could have _killed_ you.”

“I knew you wouldn't,” Komatsu said, relaxing again despite himself. “I know—I know _you_ , and I just couldn't believe that you'd attack me. And you didn't.”

Coco was shaking, minutely. “We should have,” he said. “You're—human, you're—”

“He's pack,” Toriko said, with deep satisfaction, curling a bit tighter around Komatsu.

“Doesn't fucking matter,” Zebra announced. “He's fine, next full moon we'll be prepared, what _matters_ is who the fuck did this!”

“They probably wanted us to kill Komatsu,” Coco said, the fear receding as the calculation came back into his voice. “Sending him directly to _us_ on the full moon—”

“They tried to use you to murder me?” Komatsu said, suddenly horrified, wriggling until he could sit bolt upright, breath clouding in the cold morning air.

“You might have expected us to protect you, but nobody else could have,” Coco said. “A single human, dropped into a pack of werewolves the night of the full moon... It should have been carnage.”

Komatsu shivered. “That's awful,” he said, confused, hurting. “Who would...?”

“They wanted _us_ to kill you,” Sunny hissed, eyes cold and glittering, his face as hard as marble. (It was hard not to picture him with his tail wagging and mud and moonlight on his coat, though, and the memory of that still glowed in his chest no matter what else had happened or would happen.) “So it's someone who knows us—and 'Matsu.”

“That narrows it down,” Toriko said, nodding. “...Restaurant staff? Someone who knows Komatsu's schedule, knows about us.”

“We can investigate later,” Coco said, pulling himself upright, shaking out bones gone a little stiff with the change. “Right now, we should get home.”

“I'm _hungry,_ ” Zebra growled, sitting up too, and Komatsu was waking up rapidly, and getting more and more flustered by all the bare skin and steel-solid muscle surrounding him as he woke up. (Because they were beautiful, and because they were his _Kings_ It made a difference.)

“I should be packing you bigger dinners,” Komatsu blurted out, and Sunny bared his teeth at Zebra, growling in slight frustration. “Um—when you change what happens to your clothes?”

Maybe his voice was a little higher than normal, his blush distinct.

“Anything too close to our skin disintegrates,” Coco offered. “Not enough to be dangerous to you, but fabric, paper, cloth—I think without it, there's too much risk for fibers or other alien particles to get built into our skin when we reform for the change. ...We bring changes of clothes with us,” he added, slowly dawning realization in his voice. “Oh! I should have—we're naked,” he said, like that was a _surprise_. “You're human, I—I forget that,” Coco said, a waver in his voice because he did, but also didn't—Komatsu knew, now more than ever, that he was treated like pack, but never like a werewolf. “And we're naked, and that's—I'm sorry, Komatsu! If we've offended you, or—”

“Huh?” Toriko asked, looking confused, sitting up as well, pulling Komatsu back into his arms, draping himself around him. ...Komatsu was going to guess that werewolves weren't very modest, at least the night of the full moon. And it was... strange, awkward, like a fantasy come to life but also just—a little bit surreal, much more casual than he'd ever imagined. And it was perfect. Komatsu already craved Coco's easy touch, how relaxed he'd been in his own body, when he was _touching Komatsu_ —it hurt terribly, to have that and then watch it disappear so quickly. He missed Sunny in a disorderly sprawl, missed Zebra's affection shown more openly, with more overt gentleness, tenderness, than he ever allowed himself to display the rest of the month. And Toriko. _Toriko_.

“I'll bring back clothes for _all_ of us,” Coco said, firmly, jumping to his feet and striding away, that same dichotomy he always showed—so comfortable in using his body for anything except touch.

...It also left his back turned towards them, and Komatsu couldn't help but stare at his shoulders, the dip of his spine, and— _no_ , he shouldn't ogle Coco!

\---------------------

Komatsu waited around as the Kings got dressed in the clothes they'd brought along for themselves—piece by piece, squabbling and pushing at each other as they pulled on pants, shirts, shoes. Komatsu couldn't help but feel like it was an excuse to keep on touching, which made him feel a little hollow inside, a little bit wrong. It would have been almost unbearable, except he knew how much _better_ things were getting between them.

He was included, but they'd always touched him a lot—because he didn't have the history, or because he was less of a threat, he didn't know why, but it meant the world to him, especially with the lingering reminder that they considered _him_ part of their pack, no matter where and when.

The car was really too small to hold them, not that any car would really fit the Kings—but Coco's medium-sized car, sensible and plain, didn't even come close. Komatsu didn't mind that it left him wedged in-between Sunny and Toriko in the back seat, warm and surrounded, the air in the car warming up quickly, humid with the water vapor the five of them released. Komatsu couldn't help but fall asleep again, Sunny's hand stroking through his hair, his head pillowed against Toriko, one of his hands loosely curled around a multicolored handful of Sunny's hair, the other enveloped in Toriko's hand.

He woke up again in Toriko's arms, halfway up the stairs to his apartment, smiling sleepily at them before blinking himself more awake, because the last time he'd come up these stairs...

“Is it safe to touch the doorknob?” Komatsu asked, in a hushed whisper, hand tightening around a bit of Toriko's shirt, glancing around the werewolves that had tightened formation around him.

Zebra growled at him, and Komatsu jumped—more an abbreviated twitch in Toriko's arms, held firmly and so gently in place.

“You're not touching it,” Sunny said with a dismissive sneer, and it was only because he knew him so well—and trusted him, and not just knew him but _liked_ him, the way too few people did—that Komatsu could see Sunny's concern.

Toriko bent down to sniff at the door handle, mouth parted as he scented the air, eyes closed in concentration.

“The magic's faded,” he announced. “It was left for Komatsu specifically.”

“You can smell that?” Komatsu asked, amazed, looking at Toriko in wonder, eyes going wide.

“He's freakishly sensitive even by our s'tandards,” Sunny said, pulling out his keys to open the door, all of them fanning out through the rooms, checking—double-checking, because any of them would smell an intruder, even if Toriko was the only one who could smell the specific scent of magic—before Toriko let Komatsu down.

“I'll start breakfast,” Komatsu said, turning towards the kitchen, before Zebra caught him by the back of the collar.

“Like hell you are,” he snapped. “You stink—got get clean.”

“ _Zebra_ ,” Sunny hissed, and Komatsu winced—except there wasn't much actual aggression in his posture. “And _you_ , 'Matsu, tryin' to cook for us—”

“What?” Komatsu asked, baffled and confused.

“Komatsu, go take care of yourself—get some more sleep if you need it.”

“But—”

“We'll feed ourselves,” Coco said, pushing Komatsu gently towards his bedroom. “We've done it before, you know.”

“I know! But—”

“It won't be nearly as delicious, but we have business to take care of,” Toriko said, flashing his teeth—nothing like a smile—and he took a few steps over to slide his hand over Komatsu's head one more time, like he couldn't not. Komatsu probably smelled like all of them, like pack—their human scents and wolf scents pressed into his skin, from fur and skin and tongues.

Komatsu wanted to keep on arguing, but Zebra had the look he got when he was ready to physically force Komatsu, the way he almost never did. And he knew that if he really objected, Zebra would let go of him, but he also knew that it meant that Zebra was worried about him—for him. He had been—attacked, he guessed, in his own house, even if it had ended up being one of the most amazing things that had ever happened to him. He also couldn't completely forget the original fear, misplaced in a strange forest from his own doorway, the fear of werewolves before he'd known who they were. How badly it could have gone, if he hadn't been so—lucky. So lucky, to know these men—these werewolves—so well, to be accepted into their lives. He'd done his best to open up his own life to them, once he'd gotten to know them.

It was ridiculous to try to—take care of, but also _protect_ some of the most powerful werewolves in the country, but Komatsu couldn't help himself. It was their joy in a good meal, the occasional surprise he caught when he did something for them, like they couldn't quite understand it. The way they protected him back.

It warmed him more than the quick, hot shower he took. A little time to comb his hair, brush his teeth, and slip into clean clothes, plus a few over-the-counter painkillers swallowed down guiltily, hoping the Kings wouldn't realize that he was a little stiff from playing with them the night before—because they'd done so much for him, slowing down, keeping themselves under control, and it had been wonderful. _Wonderful_. Even if he had sore muscles and a few tender bruises.

When he came back out, belly grumbling, someone had left out a plate of food for him, left over rice and eggs and miso soup, a steaming cup of tea, and Komatsu sighed gratefully, slipping into a chair. “Thank you,” he said, taking a bite—no longer bothered by the four werewolves with plates still bloody from the raw meat they'd eaten stacked by the sink. They loved their food cooked, loved vegetables, grains and fruits, but they also loved uncooked game, blood in their mouth and bones cracking between their teeth. Komatsu had adjusted—it made it easier, sometimes, trying to keep up with their appetites.

Komatsu ate quickly, hesitating over the dishes before Sunny dragged him away, down to the restaurant.

It wasn't abnormal for Komatsu to walk in with the Kings on his days off—it was even more normal for Komatsu to be there even when he wasn't scheduled—and so there wasn't much reaction when Komatsu slipped in, most of the staff not picking up on how the Kings were on high alert, too busy with the task of working a kitchen.

When one of the staff, a new woman hired a month or so ago, dropped the pan she was holding with a resounding clatter, shock bright on her face, Toriko lunged forward faster than thought, snarling and shoving past everything to slam her into the wall.

“How?” she whispered, hoarse-voiced.

“Karen?” Komatsu asked, feeling sick. “Karen—”

“How are you still _alive?_ ” And that made a murmur spread through their audience, everyone backing away as Komatsu walked forward, the other Kings surrounding him. He could hear Toriko growling, underneath Zebra's voice, his growl, echoed by Sunny and Coco, all of them furious, _dangerous_ the way they so rarely showed around Komatsu, in his restaurant especially.

“She's a warlock,” Coco said, voice ice-cold. “Surprised to see Komatsu this morning, Karen?”

She whimpered. “It worked, I felt it work—”

Zebra grabbed Komatsu, picking him up bodily and burying his face into Komatsu's shoulder, the picture of a satisfied packmember scenting pack.

“You made some assumptions,” Sunny said, baring his teeth, Toriko's growl picking up as he pushed a little harder, extra pressure on the warlock.

“He's human, he's still human, why didn't it work, you were supposed to kill him, I wanted you to suffer just like I did, just like when wolves killed my _brother_ and you just—”

“Don't kill her,” Komatsu asked, hopeful and nervous in equal measure. “Don't—Karen, how could you? How could you try to make them kill me—try to make _them_ kill me?”

“To make them _hurt,_ ” Karen said, and Toriko stepped back, snarling openly, eyes wide and deadly, canines elongating as Komatsu watched.

“Run,” Coco said, cold as ice, and the warlock disappeared with a pop.

“Karen,” Komatsu said, dazed and confused. “At—at l-least something good came out of it?”

But he was tearing up anyway.

\---------------------

The Kings hustled him upstairs, no one saying a word, Komatsu more than content to just be pulled along, dazed and hurt. His own staff—he'd been used in an attempt to _hurt_ the Kings, hurt them by having them kill... him.

He couldn't help but worry about how he was a weak link, _the_ weak link in their pack. And the thought of Coco's horror at realizing that Komatsu had been with them, magnified a thousand times over when he had to identify Komatsu's corpse from the smell of the blood and lingering flesh. Because it could have happened, if they weren't—them, so wonderfully _themselves_ , and if they hadn't seen him as pack, given him that much of an honor.

They settled him on the couch, another cup of tea appearing at his side, and the Kings hovering, silent and upset—he could almost feel it, it was so strong in their body language. Now that he knew them so well.

“We can leave,” Sunny said suddenly, hesitant, and Coco looked startled, like he was waking from a bad dream.

“We should,” Coco said, voice tight with self-loathing and hesitance, starting to push the others towards the door, and it was enough to break Komatsu out of his shock.

“Please stay,” Komatsu managed to say. “If—only if you don't mind,” he added, because he wanted their comfort so _badly_ , but he never—ever—wanted to force them. Or even make them feel obligated.

He was surrounded almost before he could register the movement, surrounded by muscular arms and huge torsos and desperate faces, breathing him in, pressing themselves against him, and Komatsu relaxed enough to sob for a few minutes, letting go of the shock that had grasped him, the loss and betrayal.

“You still want us here?” Sunny whispered, like he could only say it in the tangle of the five of them. Like it was a secret.

“Yes,” Komatsu blurted out, too fast, too sure, but there was no thought, no hesitation at all. “Of course. As long as you want to be here.”

He spent the rest of the day constantly in contact with one or more of them, no matter where he was—even when he was cooking. But mostly, it was the five of them piled onto Komatsu's upgraded-in-size-but-still-too-small couch, a little too warm, a little too crowded, and a bigger comfort than Komatsu had ever known. Full of so much— _feeling_ that it almost left him shaking. Even when Sunny and Zebra were growling and pushing at each other, even when Toriko was rumbling pleased noises into his shirt, close and intimate and Komatsu didn't really know what it meant because it was so _inhuman_ , but it left him happy anyway. More than happy. Overflowing with joy, despite everything else.

-End-


End file.
